No signal, deranged, we’re chilling in the shade after a scrambled-egg-breakfast. We spent the night in front of the beach.
Right in front of the beach, in a savannah-like-landscape, I take my shit, crouched close to the soil. Close to my soul. Close to my shit.
One of the perkiest thing of wild-shitting is watching your three little turds patting on the ground, freshly-defecated.
the Shy Tird 